Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Secret
by Muchcoffee
Summary: An epic re-writing of the entire series.  Harry is afraid of spiders...and not everyone is as they seem.  R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fan fiction story. From just the first chapter it doesn't seem to have much point to it, but if you bear with me the plot will form (and get more interesting). Please review! Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any part of this story. It's as simple as that. Rated T for comical gore/violence (which has yet to appear in the story) and fairly mild language.

I just wanted to say, before the story takes off too much, that I will be adding references to many different books, movies, etc., to this story, not all of which every reader will get. I will do my best to explain them without interfering with the story, but the bottom line is that you may just not get some things. Which is fine. However I would like to recommend that, if you are interested enough in the story to do a little homework, you read part of the wikipedia page on the video game Portal (by the company Valve. If you enter the words "Portal (video game) into the wiki search box, it'll take you to the right page). The "Plot" and very short "Characters" sections of said page should be plenty of information for you to understand the basics of what's going on, although I'm sure the details would be funnier if you've actually played the game. Hope you continue to enjoy the story! Also, I am making it a priority not to include any content that would move the rating up again, so no worries. Pretty-please R&R!

* * *

There was a boy who lived on No. 4 Private Drive ("Keep Out!", "Non-Residents Will Be Shot Presently!"), under the stairs, in a cupboard. His life so far had been pretty crappy.

He had grown up with the Dursley family, after his own parents (including Mrs. Dursley's sister, Harry's mother) had died in a car accident. The Dursleys consisted of an aforementioned Mrs. Petunia Dursley, a Mr. Vernon Dursley, and a young Mr. Dudley Dursley. The latter two took after Vernon's side of the family in physical characteristics, or lack thereof, when it came to necks. Both were very fat and stocky, with loud, impatient dispositions. Petunia was more or less the opposite – thin and quiet, and possessing nearly enough neck to make up for both Vernon and Dudley. They were a content family, except for Dudley's occasional tantrum (usually followed by much fawning over by Petunia and such phrases as "Oh, our poor Duddykins, Mummy and Daddy will make everything alright," and "Does Dinky Duddydums need a sweet to cheer him up?").

And then there was Harry. Almost eleven years before our story begins, Harry, just a baby, had been left on the Dursley's doorstep soon after the death of Petunia's sister Lily and her husband James. The Dursleys had raised Harry none too kindly – they were afraid he possessed the same strange abilities as his parents. And if he did, the Dursleys felt it must be kept a close secret, even from Harry himself. Dudley and his gang of friends at school made sure nobody wanted to talk to the odd boy with the broken glasses, and Harry soon learned not to talk to anyone else – this resulted in Dudley attempting to beat Harry up after school. This usually did not work, since Harry was very quick, but it meant that he would have to escape to his room under the stairs, bar his bed across the door...and watch the spiders crawl slowly across the ceiling.

Harry hated spiders. He also hated ants, flies, crickets, grasshoppers, and any other kind of bug that one might find in England, but spiders were the worst. Harry had long ago written an entire declaration against any bugs that found their way into the cupboard. Sadly, Vernon had found it a few months ago, determined that Harry was involved with some bizarre religious cult, burned the paper, and locked Harry in the cupboard for three weeks. Luckily, Harry had managed to pick the lock before he surrendered to the spider-willies completely, thus gaining freedom during the night, while the Dursleys were sleeping, and access to the bathroom (and refrigerator), which Vernon had overlooked. Still, Harry missed that declaration (called, formally, The Declaration of Capital Importance Against Crawly Things). It had gone like this:

1 Thou shalt not possess more than four legs at any given time.

2 Thou shalt not crawl on or touch any part of my clothes or person.

3 Crawlest thou in, crawlest thou out! None of this web-building business shall be tolerated unto thee.

4 Thy fear of the Loud, Strong Sucking Tube Plugged Unto The Wall shall remain!

5 If thou do try to hide beneath my own bed, socks, or various other paraphernalia, thou shalt perish with indeed more vigor from my motive and more screeching of my own than if thou did not surprise me, hark there!

6 If thy form is smaller than a match-head, I shall squash thee presently.

7 If thy form is fractionally larger than a match-head, I shall fetch unto thee my Loud, Strong Sucking Tube Plugged Unto The Wall.

8 If thy form is remarkably larger than a match-head, I shall flee from thee in terror.

9 Warned be thy beady faces, thy undesirable heads! Come thou into that house which does not belong to thee, comest thou never out except in the form of garbage, amongst several other discarded items!

Without those words of comfort, Harry felt unprotected from the spiders. Unknown to the Dursleys, he spent most nights on the couch in the living room after they had gone to bed as to escape the creatures.

But it was, on one unpleasant Sunday morning, that Harry _was _sent to his cupboard. It all went down like this.

"Sunday!" cried Uncle Vernon. "What do I love about Sundays?"

Dudley shrugged and returned to his breakfast of chocolate cereals and pastries. It was his birthday today. His only disappointment so far had been not getting to eat his cake at breakfast. Harry placed Vernon's bacon and eggs on the table and returned to the stove to cook his own breakfast.

"Because there's no post today," he answered boredly. Vernon asked this question every Sunday, and Dudley could never remember the answer. Harry found this fascinating and at the same time pathetic.

"Right you are, Harry!" Vernon replied, in a cheerful tone almost never used around his nephew. Except on Sundays.

"Where are we going today?" demanded Dudley. On every one of his birthdays, the Dursleys went out to some kind of park or zoo. Harry was left alone with Mrs. Figg, an elderly woman who lived close by and who didn't go on holidays because she didn't trust anyone else to take care of her cats. Harry didn't blame her – Mrs. Figg kept two lions and a bobcat. She had all kinds of licenses, Vernon always said. He also said her pets were the main reason that Private Drive was so heavily restricted. No one without permission could get in...and nothing without permission could get out. Vernon always said the last part in what he imagined was a spooky voice. Harry always thought he sounded like he was going to vomit, or cry. Or both. In fact, he had never quite understand the overstated privacy of Private Drive. It was private. You weren't allowed in unless you were a resident, a postal worker, or a government agent (which weren't too common in this part of England). It wasn't as if there were armed guards at street crossings.

Petunia entered the room, carrying the last of Dudley's presents.

"We're going to the zoo, Duddy Dumplings," she said, dusting off her hands.

"Ah, we'll just drop him off at Mrs. Figg's on the way, then," said Vernon, indicating Harry. Petunia looked troubled.

"I'm afraid we can't, dear," she said. "One of Mrs. Figg's cats, um...well I'm afraid one of her feet is gone. She's at the hospital."

Vernon's meaty brow creased.

"Well we can't have that," he said. "We'll have to take the boy with us."

Dudley's pudgy face screwed itself into what was supposed to be a simpering expression.

"He can't come Mummy I don't want him to come he'll run EVERYTHING don't let him come Mummy!" he cried all in one breath. Petunia rushed to her son's side with a candy, which she pushed into Dudley's mouth.

"Now now, there's my Darling Duddykins," she crooned. Harry fought back the vomit rising in his throat. Dudley spat the candy onto the carpet, a sign that meant he was _truly _pretending to be upset, and let out a wavering wail.

"We'll keep him away from what you're doing, Dudley," Uncle Vernon told him. "We'll make sure he doesn't cause any _trouble."_

With the last words Vernon turned his head to glare at Harry. "Isn't that right, boy? No..._funny business?_"

Harry puckered up his mouth in a mock serious expression.

"No sir," he said. "No jokes from me." Sometimes he just couldn't help it.

A raised lump of fat on Vernon's forehead suggested that somewhere down there, a vein was throbbing.

"Right, you know what I mean!" he growled. Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Dudley had calmed down a bit.

"Can we go now, Mummy?" he said hopefully.

"Of course, my Duddlylumpy," she said, and with a searing look at Harry, walked Dudley out of the room. Vernon rose from his chair.

"Get on, then," he said gruffly, and followed.

Harry sighed, resolved to have as good of a time as possible at the zoo, and headed to the car.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed it! Like I said, the story does break off from the original plot eventually, and please leave a review! New chapters coming eventually (saying "soon" seems a little too hopeful for my writing habits).


	2. Chapter 2

"I WANT A CHOCOLATE ONE!" clarified Dudley loudly. Vernon was standing in queue for ice creams. Harry had not been offered one. He didn't really mind, since he wasn't hungry anyway, but he did wish that he was allowed to walk around unsupervised by his aunt, instead of sitting on a bench and watching her finish off a lettuce-filled burger.

Once Dudley had realized that there was nothing he could do to get rid of Harry, he had perked up a bit. They had so far visited the zoo's petting area, aquarium, and reptile house. Their next stop after food was the African animals display. Harry was half hoping that Dudley would fall into a cage and be swallowed whole by some kind of snake. When he thought about it, though, he wasn't entirely sure if any swallowing types of snake even were from Africa, and if they were, he couldn't imagine that one would want to eat such an excess of empty calories with bad attitudes and spoiled-brat cellulite – just about the only things Dudley consisted of.

Harry was awoken from his happy fantasy by Petunia's voice.

"Come on!" she said to him sharply, as if speaking to a dog.

The African animals turned out to be pretty interesting. Harry passed by lions, zebras, tigers, and nearly every other animal found in the stereotypical idea of Africa. As Dudley complained that he was tired and needed a rest, Harry wandered to an enclosure, about half of which was an artificial pond. He stopped to fix his untied shoelace. When he stood up again, he found that an all-too-happy-to-help-him animal information employee was, to put it plainly, right in his face.

"Hi!" said the employee. His name tag proclaimed him to be called Duncan, and when he spoke again, it was with an American accent. "If you have any questions about these hippopotamuses, _I'm _your guy!"

Harry backed away quickly. He awkwardly faked a smile.

"Yeah, thanks...not right now." He quickly escaped to another viewing point of the hippopotamus enclosure, from which he saw two fairly content-looking hippopotamuses, one chewing slowly, the other standing in the water.

Duncan wasn't finished with Harry yet. With an acne-ridden, yet dimpled smile, he nearly screamed at Harry, "Did _you know - _the hippopotamus is the third largest land animal in the world! They are in fact related to cetaceans, and not, as you may incorrectly derive from their appearances, terrestrial ungulates!" His teeth were very straight, white, and exceptionally long, and he was making sure he showed off every single one of them.

A woman pushed past Harry and apologized over her shoulder. The sun burned down on them. The hippopotamuses chewed and stood. Duncan's smile remained fixed. A fly buzzed between them. Harry felt an intense urge to escape Duncan, curl up, and cry.

"Uh...yeah. That's really interesting," he said, severely disturbed now. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Do they ever eat people?"

Duncan hesitated for a short, unwavering moment. "No," he said, still beaming. "However, we _have _placed Wilma in a little, ahaha, 'hippo time out,' which means that she got a little feisty with some of the other hippos! Of course," he added in a terrifyingly reassuring tone, "I can assure you and all members of your party that we take _extensive_ steps to make sure that kind of behavior _never _gets beyond the handlers to reach our valued visitors!"

Harry grinned weakly, inwardly pleading Dudley to stop resting. There was something about Duncan that was basically wrong, something in Harry's soul that told him to run away and forget, forget all of this, forget Duncan and his accursed hippos! But he could not run, he could not hide. He could not escape that smile.

"Where's Wilma now?" he asked, almost ready to faint.

"Over there," said Duncan, pointing, and Harry was glad to escape. Moments later he found himself alone, next to a small patch of ground, partly water, separated from him by strong glass. Behind the glass, a hippo was chewing some grass. Oddly enough, she looked up at him when he came near.

"Hellooo," said Harry vaguely, giving her a little wave. To his shock, a voice replied, "Hey. You come to take me outa this dump?"

It took Harry a minute to figure out that the voice he heard was, in fact, coming from Wilma. A talking hippo? Harry had certainly never heard of such a creature, but he was pretty good at believing odd things – they seemed to follow Harry. (Also he believed in hobbits, angels, pet rocks, the Lion King, and elves.) When he turned five, he had received two shillings from the Dursleys, and immediately Dudley had wanted it from him. Managing to seize the coins, Dudley was unpleasantly surprised when they burst into flame and disappeared. Harry was quite pleased by this indecent because Dudley received minor burns, and Harry had no use for the money anyway. Similar strange things had occurred throughout his life, whenever he felt particularly angry, or sad, or even cheerful, like Harry's first day of summer vacation when he was seven. Petunia, who at the time had a cold, had sneezed out a bedraggled bouquet of daisies which never should have fit up her skeletal nose. Harry couldn't explain the phenomena, and if the Dursleys could, they certainly had no intention of letting him know.

He tried to start a conversation.

"So...did you like Africa?" he asked. Wilma's large face grimaced.

"I miss it. Nowadays, you're a hippo, you want Africa, this place is the best you're gonna get. I used to roam around with my team. We'd hunt down wrongdoers like a dog tracks down a dead rodent. Ha! Those were the days..."

"So...you're the hippo police?" Harry guessed. Wilma snorted. Harry checked behind him to make sure that no one had noticed the boy and the hippo having a conversation.

"Hell no!" said Wilma. "I'm a freedom fighter. Down in Africa, things are bad. Dark, I mean. There's talk of power behind the throne. Me and my team, we were close, so close – and then those damn humans came and took me!"

Harry wondered if the bad grammar was intentional – Wilma spoke with an African accent, but used words like some kind of thug. Maybe it was a freedom fighter thing.

"Hey, you feel like getting me outa here?" Wilma said suddenly.

"I...I wouldn't know how," Harry admitted. He wished he could set Wilma free. He knew firsthand that captivity was a sad life. Wilma chuckled.

"You just did it, little guy! Look at me – I'm bustin' outa here!"

To his shock Harry realized that the glass in front of him had vanished. Just in time, he leaped to the floor as Wilma came flying out of her prison, into a crowd of panicking people. Harry hadn't even known that hippos _could _jump. It was just one of those things he had never really thought about.

And then it all happened so fast – he saw Dudley, sitting on the bench. He saw him stand up, and walk out into the crowd, where the panic had not quite reached yet. He saw the hippo, barreling down the walkway, her face ecstatic. He saw, for just a tiny moment, a look of utter and complete terror on Dudley's face before the two collided in a heap of cousin and hippo. Petunia screamed, and Harry began push through the crowd towards the Dursleys. A large, meaty hand grabbed his shoulder...

Legs. That was all Harry could see and think about. Not normal legs. Not the kind of legs with feet and toes at the end. No, the kind of leg Harry was occupied by came in eights. They were small, sometimes furry, and they were attached to spiders. They crawled across the ceiling in slow, deliberate movements, as if to tell him that they remembered every one of their numbers that he had vacuumed, and now that he was on their ground, they would make him pay.

And Harry had to endure them for as long as it took for Dudley to return from the hospital. Two broken ribs, a smashed foot, and a broken leg...Harry guessed he would be grounded at least two more days. Vernon and Petunia had been speechless with horror when they had seen their beloved son, mauled by a hippo. The ambulance had arrived quickly, and it had all seemed like a blur to Harry. Vernon had grounded him, he knew that. Forever. Later, 'forever' had come to mean 'until Dudley gets back'.

Actually, Harry had once again managed to pick the lock on the cupboard door. But with Vernon patrolling the house, he wouldn't be able to leave without being noticed.

He sighed, and tried his hardest to concentrate on anything but the spiders. Outside the cupboard, he heard the mail being dropped through the mail slot. He heard Vernon coming down the hall to retrieve it. The light coming through the vent in the cupboard door was momentarily blocked out. There was a scuffling as Vernon picked up the envelopes. A pause. Then Vernon hurried back down the hall. The sounds of a phone dialing reached Harry's ears. Then Vernon's hushed voice.

"It's another one, Petunia! Came in the mail a moment ago!" (A pause) "Oh is he? Yes. Yes I know. What if they don't stop?" (Another pause) "If...if they won't stop, we'll have to leave until they do. Yes. I'll call back."

Vernon hung up and stomped into the living room as Harry eased open the door. He saw the mail where Vernon had thrown it on the counter. He sneaked down the hallway and into the kitchen. On the top of the pile was an envelope of heavy yellowed paper, addressed in handwritten green ink. Harry picked it up, and almost dropped it when he saw the address:

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Private Drive

Little Winging

Surrey

BANG! A door slammed shut and Vernon, his face bright red and furious, seized the letter from Harry.

"YOU – WILL – NOT – READ – THIS – LETTER!" he roared, and dragged a protesting Harry back down the hall and into the cupboard, where he locked the door.

_"Don't you ever speak of this again,"_ Vernon hissed through the vent. "You hear me, boy? Mention this letter – to ANYONE – and you'll be sorry!"


	3. Chapter 3

A towering wave crashed against the rocks. Harry turned over and pressed the button on Dudley's watch to make it glow. He saw that his eleventh birthday was ticking closer – only ten minutes to go.

Several days before, Petunia had returned from the hospital with Dudley in several casts, to find an onslaught of letters awaiting her. The envelopes, all addressed to Harry, were delivered by owls, often in broad daylight. The Dursleys had found this idea both embarrassing, for it called the wrong kind of attention from neighbors, and, when they thought Dudley and Harry weren't listening, rather frightening. The constant deliveries had gotten so out of hand that Harry's aunt and uncle had decided the only way to stop the letters was to stay at a different address for a while. They had driven to hotels, stayed at relatives' houses, all to no avail.

Finally they had ended up on a tiny island nearly a mile from shore, upon which a very unstable-looking wooden building stood. A strange man with shadows under his eyes had rented it to them, saying he wouldn't need his summer home during his time working as a supermarket custodian in America. When they had all arrived on the island, Vernon had instructed Harry to bring the suitcases inside, but not to unpack them, because he was not trusted with any sort of valuables they might own. This had left him with plenty of time to explore the island while the others unpacked and fussed over Dudley.

Down by the shore – any shore, since the island was no more than two hundred meters across – Harry found a few shells. He looked out at the horizon and saw that an army of dark clouds was moving in. Beneath them the water looked grey and opaque. He almost tripped on something. Looking down, he saw a flat stone wedged between two rocks. Inscribed sloppily on it was the single word 'MOP'.

Harry wondered at this as he headed back to the house. He sneezed. The inside of the building was incredibly dusty, and for an asthmatic like him, that meant no sleep that night. Vernon pushed past him, carrying Dudley's laptop and a few DVDs.

"Follow me, boy," Vernon instructed. Harry followed him to where he would apparently be sleeping. The room consisted of a couch, which would undoubtedly be Dudley's, and three blankets tossed on the floor, which would undoubtedly be his. Petunia and Vernon would be sleeping on two more couches upstairs. Apparently the man who owned the building did not sleep, because there was no bed to be found.

Vernon tossed Harry's inhaler on Dudley's couch.

"Don't you bother my son while he's recovering," Vernon warned, and went upstairs.

"No worries, alligator," Harry muttered after him, cocking both hands like pistols and pointing up the stairs. He even made the sound effects.

Harry decided to explore a little more. There were two closet doors and a trap door on the ceiling. Harry went to one of the doors and tried the handle. For a moment he thought it was locked, but he soon realized the wood was just jammed. He pushed up hard, pulled outward – and saw, in the dark closet, mop after mop after mop...all covered with a dark substance Harry hoped wasn't blood. Feeling sickened but fascinated, he looked closer. It _was_ blood. He backed away a few steps and carefully closed the door. To his surprise, hearing Dudley's wailing tones above him actually comforted Harry a little. He took a deep breath and looked at the other door.

He shouldn't. But he wanted to. There was something inside of him, something calculating the risks ahead, saying, 'You'd better find out what's in there now before it kills you in the middle of the night'. He listened to the voice.

The second door only opened a few inches before hitting something on the other side. A large, clear pipe was built straight across the room, although that wasn't what was obstructing the door. Harry pushed harder, and heard a shifting sound. The door opened a few more inches, then stopped. He could see the edge of a hole in the pipe, above the thing that was still stopping the door. He squinted across the room. There was something written on the wall. He tried to ram his head through the doorway, and made out "The cake is..."

Harry jerked himself back as he heard Dudley limping down the stairs on crutches. He quietly closed the door and pretended he had been making up his bed all along. Dudley plopped down on the couch and groaned theatrically.

"Mummy and Daddy say if you don't let me sleep now, they'll throw you into the sea," he said weakly. Harry looked outside and saw that it was indeed getting dark. The storm he had seen earlier was also rolling in.

And so we come back to Harry, waiting for his birthday, on the floor, next to Dudley's couch. His thoughts flickered between his birthday and the cake message. The cake is what? Baked? Gone? On the counter? In the refrigerator? He checked Dudley's watch again. Seven minutes. He mentally sang a few Metallica songs in his head to pass the time. Without realizing it, he started to headbang. Before long his wagging head smacked into the ground in front of him and left a little dent in the layer of dust there. Harry decided to draw a cake in the dust – not a mystery cake, but a plain old birthday cake. Only made out of dust. Oh well, same difference.

Harry wasn't a very good artist, but he managed a weak cake shape, and put eleven lopsided candles on it. He drew little flames, then peered at Dudley's watch and counted down the seconds.

Ten..._lalala...must not headbang._

Nine..._think of calm music, Harry. Bach. Mozart. Enya._

Eight..._what if those mops come alive?_

Seven..._what if they tried to kill me?_

Six..._I wonder if the elves would come to help me. Or maybe Simba._

Five..._Amarantine...amarantine...think caaaaaalm..._

Four..._if the mops do attack, I'll use Dudley as a shield._

Three..._no, that would probably be under the category of inhibiting his recovery. Never mind._

Two..._almost there! Yipee-iy-ay!_

One..._wait for it..._

BANG! The door crashed off its hinges just as Harry blew on his cake drawing. He heard Dudley scream. Harry's fight or flight instinct kicked in, choosing the flight option. He ran for cover, finding it in a cove between the mop door and the wall. Petunia and Vernon charged downstairs.

In the doorway, silhouetted against a bolt of lightning, was the form of a huge man, who peered at Harry.

"That you, 'Arry?" he asked in a booming voice.

Harry couldn't help it. He screamed.


	4. Chapter 4

The huge man stared at Harry. Harry stared back, managing to stop screaming.

"I _demand_ you leave at once!" Vernon shouted, brandishing a rifle. The stranger frowned, then crossed the room and bent the end of the rifle upwards.

"Sherrup Dursley, you great kumquat," he said disgustedly. Harry regained control of his frozen limbs and took a few steps forward. Vernon's mouth was opened in a perfect O.

The stranger turned to Harry.

"I'm sure you don't remember me from when you were a baby," he said cheerfully to him. He offered out a large hand. "Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys, equipment, and grounds at Hogwarts. Of course, you'll know all about Hogwarts."

Harry frowned. "Um...no, actually." He cautiously took the man's hand, and scrutinized him. "Are you an enlarged hobbit? Or a lion in a man-suit?"

Hagrid stared at him.

"...No?" he answered hesitantly.

"Stop it, I tell you!" Vernon cried, waving his arms about. Hagrid ignored him.

"But...you're telling me...you _don't _know about Hogwarts?" he said, amazed. "Didn't you ever wonder where your parents learned it all?"

"All what?" said Harry.

"STOP IT!" screamed Vernon. "When we took him in we swore we'd put a stop to all this nonsense!"

"What nonsense?" said Harry.

"And so you didn't even tell him?" Hagrid yelled.

"Of course we didn't tell him!" injected Petunia.

"Tell me what?" said Harry.

"You didn't tell him _anything? _Not even about Lily and James?"

"What about them?" said Harry.

"We told him they died in a car crash," explained Petunia.

"A CAR CRASH? A CAR CRASH killed Lily and James Potter? What was so hard about the truth? They were blown up! See? There you go!"

"WHAT?" said Harry.

"Alright, maybe we could have told him that...but a car crash saved time explaining the details!" conceded Petunia.

"And what about all the rest?" demanded Hagrid.

"What rest?" said Harry.

"He'll not be going anywhere!" said Vernon. Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"AUUUGHHAROODLE! AHHHHHHH!" he shrieked, leaping up and down and waving his arms above his head.. Everyone stared at him blankly. Harry sighed.

"Can somebody _please _tell me what you are talking about?" he said, very calmly. Hagrid sighed.

"You're a wizard, Harry."

That was all he remembered before everything went black.

"Each student is required to bring a wand, robes, the following list of potion ingredients..." Harry looked at Hagrid, who grinned at him. They were walking through London, a few days after Hagrid's arrival at the Dursleys', when Harry had passed out.

"Didn't know you could find all that in London, did you?" he said, patting Harry's shoulder. He directed them down a side street. Harry looked at him solemnly.

"I did, actually. The Little Folk told me of their workshop here in the city. They said they have great prices."

Hagrid was silent for a moment.

"What 'Little Folk' are you talking about?" he said, a little concerned. Harry smiled.

"The elves that work for St. Nicholas, of course," he said. "They handle the military as well."

"Well I'm afraid it's wizards and witches that make those kinds of things, Harry," he said gently. Harry laughed.

"That's alright," he said. "Very few people believe in the elves. I'm sure the wizards and witches _distribute _the items, but in the end they're all of elven make. You don't have to believe me, though. In fact they prefer to stay unknown and anonymous. Where are we going?"

Hagrid opened a door, which said "The Leaky Cauldron" on it. Harry stopped abruptly.

"Is someone _smoking _in there?" he said, covering his mouth and nose with his jacket. Hagrid frowned.

"Pipes, Harry. They're all smoking pipes. It's a pub, what'd you expect?"

"I can't go in there!" Harry cried. "I'll suffocate! My lungs will shrivel up and DIE!"

"Not from breathing it in for just a few minutes," Hagrid assured him, chuckling. Harry was not convinced.

"Promise me we'll run through it as fast as we can," he said.

"Alright," agreed Hagrid.

Harry gulped in as much fresh air as he could, held his jacket tight to his face, and rushed into The Leaky Cauldron. Hagrid followed less enthusiastically.

"Oh, Hagrid!"

Harry was running out of air. He he stopped and swiveled quickly to see Hagrid being drawn into a chat with a man delivering drinks, and rushed over. Vigorously shaking Hagrid's coat sleeve, he indicated the back door, which was being covered by dizzying spots of color. He needed oxygen, and fast.

Hagrid, calling out a goodbye to the man, followed Harry outside, where the jacket was ripped off and the boy finally collapsed in a pile of sacks, gasping for air. Hagrid shook his head. Harry was an odd one, that was for sure.

He walked to the brick wall in front of them, and began to rummage in his enormous pockets. Harry caught a glimpse of a rubber chicken and what appeared to be the hilt of a scimitar, before a pink umbrella was drawn out. Hagrid tapped some bricks, and the wall pulled apart to form an archway. Hagrid ducked under it, and Harry followed. He saw before him a street packed full of restaurants and shops of every kind. His mouth must have dropped open, because Hagrid's large hand pulled his jaw up to close it for him. Harry wiped a bit of drool off his neck.

"Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley!"


	5. Chapter 5

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it!

And thank you so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it.

And just to clarify, my disclaimer at the beginning _does _include not owning Seinfeld or anything by Disney.

Enjoy!

* * *

"And _this _is Gringotts! Isn't it splendid?"

Harry walked up to the door of the wizard bank Hagrid had been telling him about. Above the large doors was a sign that said _Gringotts Bank and Cafe. _They entered through these doors, and were faced with two more – one leading left, the other right. Through the left one Harry could see a large hall with numerous tall desks. Above the door was a polished plaque with a short poem engraved:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Through the right door he could see a counter, and lots of tables. A waiter walked by the door carrying a delicious-smelling plate with an omelet and bacon on it. Above _this _door was a similar plaque:

_Enter, stranger, but please listen_

_For we will know what we are missin'_

_Yes, those who bake, but do not earn_

_Will know who takes, and does not learn_

_That if you snitch a pastry fine_

_Or push your way ahead in line_

_Thief, you will receive a beating_

_Worse than that of the eggs you're eating!_

Hagrid nodded towards the cafe.

"You'd be mad to try and rob it," he said. "And they're ruddy uptight about the way you order your food, especially at the soup counter. Can't be too friendly, can't be too unfriendly, or they throw you out. Sometimes they won't let you back in till they see fit! Knew a woman who couldn't come back for a year! A _year, _mind you! Excellent soup, though."

Harry quickly decided going through the other door was a good idea. Hagrid spoke to a few goblins there, and soon they were following two goblins, Grapplehook and his brother Safetycatch, to a line of carts on a track. They all piled into one cart, which, after the seat belt bars had lowered into place, took off on a track automatically. The track led into a channel of shallow water. The channel opened up into a larger chamber, which Harry was surprised to find was filled with colourful sculptures of children from cultures around the world, on little artificial islands with fake grass. Then he became aware of music playing from some unknown source...

_...A world of tears_

_It's a world of hopes_

_And a world of fears_

_There's so much that we share_

_That it's time we're aware_

_It's a small world after all!_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small, small world!_

Harry looked around at Hagrid, who smiled cheerily at him.

_There is just one moon_

_And one golden sun_

_And a smile mean_

_Friendship to everyone_

_Though the mountains divide_

_And the oceans are wide_

_It's a small world after all!_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small, small world!_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small, small world!_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small, small world!_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small world after all_

_It's a small, small world!_

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He was mentally preparing to leap off the cart, and, if necessary to stop the singing, drown himself – but luckily they turned onto one of several tracks branching off from the main one. They entered a dry, dark tunnel, which led steeply upwards. Harry heard a rhythmic clicking sound as the cart ascended slowly. Safetycatch looked back at them.

"We normally don't take minors through this tunnel, but given the vault we're heading to..." he turned back to the blackness ahead. Harry frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Why not?"

But Safetycatch never had a chance to answer him, because at that moment the cart reached the end of its ascension. Harry felt them level out for a fraction of a second, before the cart tipped over the peak and sped downwards. Hagrid put both hands above his head and screamed joyfully as the air whipped past them. Harry, who had immediately frozen stiff in terror, had to put his glasses in a pocket as the ride looped upside down once, twice, and then a third time. He locked both arms awkwardly around the seat belt bar, closed his eyes, and prayed for the ride to end.

The cart slowed...then jerked off in another direction, this time with the passengers facing backwards. Harry felt them endure four more loops, some short hills that sent his innards flying upwards, and then they were zooming up again. There was no hesitation this time as the cart flew over the summit and downwards. Harry felt water droplets peppering his face, heard the thundering...and then the cart smashed down onto level ground and into the torchlight, sending up a wave of freezing water that seemed to hover above them for a moment, before crashing down and soaking them all.

Hagrid finally lowered his hands. He gave Harry an intense pat on the shoulder.

"Blimey, that was refreshing!" he said, shaking water out of his beard. The goblins calmly pushed up their seat-belt bars and removed Harry and Hagrid's.

"Lamp, please," said Grapplehook. Hagrid sobered up a bit and handed it to him. Grapplehook took out a waterproof box of matches, and lit the lamp. Hagrid went to stand up, only to find that a stiff, trembling Harry was in his way.

"Blimey Harry, you all right?" he said, and when he received no reply, he pried the boy's hands off of the bar and lifted him out of the cart by the shoulders, calling over Safetycatch. The goblin sighed.

_"That _is why we usually don't allow minors," he said, and fetched a fluffy towel from under a cart seat. He wrapped it around Harry, which proved difficult, since his arms were still extended as if to grip the bar. His eyes were squeezed shut.

Hagrid sighed.

"It's alright, Harry," he said quietly. "It's over now. It's all over."

Harry cracked an eye open, not that this did much good without his glasses.

"Is this...heaven?" he said. Hagrid and Safetycatch exchanged confused glances.

"...No?" replied Safetycatch.

_"Are we in hell?" _said Harry, bewildered.

"No, Harry...I meant, the _ride's _over. We're at the vault now," Hagrid told him.

"Oh." Harry opened his other eye and put his glasses on. "So...I'm still alive, then?"

"Aye, you're still alive."

Grapplehook swung open the door to the vault, and Hagrid entered it. A moment later he returned, stowing a buzzing, cantaloupe-sized box in an inside pocket. Curiously, it made no lump on the outside of Hagrid's coat. Harry decided it must be Time Lord technology, and didn't ask.

"All right there, Harry?" Hagrid asked him, and Harry nodded. Safetycatch led them back to the cart, while Grapplehook closed up the vault. When the goblin joined them, he assured Harry that the next ride would be much tamer.

And it was. Harry enjoyed the relaxed trek through different parts of what appeared to be a haunted house. Along one wall were mirrors designed to show a ghost sitting in the cart alongside them. Hagrid cleared his throat and tucked his head under his coat as they passed these, earning him a suspicious look from Safetycatch. After passing over a ghostly banquet table, the cart finally stopped by a chain fence, upon the posts of which were little bat sculptures. As the group got off the cart and passed by the fence, Harry made sure to give each bat a pat on the head.

Finally they arrived at another vault.

"Key, please," Grapplehook said, and Hagrid supplied this, reaching into his wet pocket to remove a tiny golden key. Harry thought it was almost as cute as the bats.

"This is your vault, Harry," Hagrid told him, and gave him a little push towards the heavy door as Grapplehook opened it. As the contents were revealed, Hagrid gave a little gasp.

Before Harry lay an enormous chamber stacked full of gold, silver, and jewels. He picked up a ruby-studded crown and placed it on his head, then strolled across the room, where there were several more chambers of the same sort leading off.

"Blimey...I didn't know James was _this _well off," said Hagrid in awe.

"It was actually a Lily Potter from whom most of this came," corrected Safetycatch.

_"What?"_ said Hagrid. The goblin shrugged.

"She had...connections. I'm sorry, but I am not at liberty to discuss them with the general public."

Hagrid frowned.

"We'd best pack up a bit of this and be on our way, Harry," he called. Harry appeared from one of the other chambers, now clad in a fine crimson cloak trimmed with white fur and embroidered with gold thread.

"How much can we take?" he asked, appearing fairly unaffected by his sudden wealth.

"As much as you can carry in your spare trunk. Here's a sack." Hagrid carefully crossed the room to meet Harry halfway, who took the sack and began piling in coins and jewels. As he reached for an ornamental mace, Hagrid interjected, "I'm not sure how useful that'll be, Harry. That and the stones, I mean. You'll probably just want the usual stuff – not too many shops 'round Hogwarts will take much other than coins."

Harry reluctantly removed the gemstones, but packed the mace and added a sword, which looked far less ornamental and far more deadly. Hagrid received a scalding look from Harry when he tried to protest the weapons, and let the matter drop.

Finally they were ready to go. The cart returned to the main chamber with the cheery song, and after a maddening number of repeats of the chorus, the group was finally back in the main chamber of Gringotts Bank.

"Pleasure meeting you all, come back soon!" said Safetycatch, and saw them to the door. Harry, still bedecked in his crown and robe, caught another whiff of the delicious bacon from the cafe as they left.

"So! What next?" he asked, straightening his crown. Hagrid pulled out the list of checked-off school supplies.

"You'll just be needing a wand now, I reckon," he said, and soon they were at a shop under a sign that read _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._

"I've got some things of my own to be looking for," said Hagrid. "Off you go now!"

Harry opened the door – and walked straight into something yellow.


	6. Chapter 6

They both screamed. For a moment, Harry saw the features of the yellow thing – red cheeks, black-tipped ears, a lightning-shaped tail – and then its form warped, and before him stood an elderly man, straightening his waistcoat. Harry was stunned.

The man, presumably Ollivander, gave a weak chuckle.

"Ah...terribly sorry about that, my boy, it's just a...um...safety precaution...nothing to be worried about..."

Harry was pretty sure he had made that up, but he was still too shocked to make a noise.

Ollivander examined him – the small, scruffy boy in the kingly crown and robe.

"Harry Potter!" he proclaimed. "I _thought _I might be seeing you one of these days. In fact, it seems only yesterday that your mother and father, and their friends, and _their _friends, and the man who killed them all, and his cronies, and their families, and their families' friends, were in here, buying _their _first wands! Why, my whole life seems to have happened yesterday!" he chuckled again, and made his way over to one wall of the shop, which was stacked to the ceiling with wand-sized boxes. He selected one and brought it over to Harry.

"You _will _be wanting a wand, yes?" he said, uncertainly. Harry pulled himself together and took the box from Ollivander.

"'Spose so," he muttered half to himself, and opened the box. Unsurprisingly, there was a wand inside. Harry stared at it. The wand did not stare back.

"Well give it a wave!" encouraged Ollivander. Harry cheerfully raised his left hand and waved at the wand in his right.

_"Please, _Mr. Potter, I _do _have things to attend to," said Ollivander. Harry mentally stuck his tongue out at the old man, and swished the wand randomly. Harry saw a bright explosion and a cat streaking past him. When the dust cleared, he realized he could see sunlight. Most of the building had collapsed. Ollivander was silent for a moment. Harry sucked in his lips and tried to look innocent.

Ten minutes later, the shop repaired, Harry left Ollivander's with a wand in his hand. He smacked straight into Hagrid, who was holding a birdcage.

"Blimey, Harry, you've got to watch where you're going!" he said, then pointed to the birdcage and beamed. "Happy birthday!"

Inside the cage was a resting wood duck with soft-looking mottled brown feathers. Harry was quite taken aback by this display of affection – the Dursleys had never offered him a duck before. He carefully took the cage from Hagrid and examined the duck.

"You've got to name her, of course," Hagrid reminded him.

"Does she look like a Florence to you?" Harry inquired. When Hagrid said no, he sighed. "Well then, it'll have to be Headwig."

"Hedwig?" said Hagrid.

"No, _Head_wig. As in a wig that goes on your head," Harry clarified.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "She looks like a Headwig to me, that's all."

"Er...alright. Come on, we'd best be going. Don't want to be late for the train!"

As they traveled back to muggle London, Harry reflected on what he had seen at Ollivander's. It was true, he had only seen the yellow being for a moment, but...he couldn't help feeling he had seen it before. Perhaps in a smaller version. Probably at the Dursleys'. Definitely in Dudley's bedroom...of course!

"PIKACHU!" Harry cried, startling the wood duck, who flapped about in her cage. Hagrid stopped and looked back at him.

"What?"

"Pikachu! That's what I saw! Only...a giant one. They're supposed to be 'pocket monsters,' but this one was really big."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" said Hagrid, bewildered.

"That's the original Japanese name for the brand. Dudley was obsessed with them a couple of years ago, but he got over it. Then I saw one today. And then it turned into Ollivander or something. Or he got there really fast, but I don't think that's possible because he's so old and everyone knows old people can only move like three miles an hour tops," Harry continued. "Maybe he fell into a radioactive pit and now he's like a Pikachu-man or something like that!"

Hagrid sighed, didn't ask, and finally managed to get Harry and Headwig to King's Cross station, where several people stared at the wood duck and the robed boy. Hagrid stopped, and drew a ticket from his pocket.

"I've got to leave you here, Harry. Just make sure you're on the train by 11:00, and _stick to your ticket._ That's very important, Harry." He handed over the trunks and bags he had been transporting, then hurried out of the station. By the time Harry had untangled himself from the pile, Hagrid was gone.

"Some friend you are," he muttered, then examined his ticket.

**Hogwarts Express**

**Platform 9 ¾**

**Leaves at 11:00**

**Be on the train by then!**

**STICK TO ME!**

**That's very important, Harry.**

Harry felt a chill run through him. The ticket's message, strangely identical to Hagrid's parting words, echoed eerily through his head. He shivered, then went to find the platform.

Arriving at the brick marker between platforms 9 and 10, Harry deduced this must be some sort of test. He made sure no one was looking, then took out his sword and started hacking at the bricks. A man passed by him, noticed, and said, "Hey, what are you doing?"

Harry quickly put the sword behind his back, under his robe, and bared his teeth at the man.

_"I'm not...supposed...to talk...to strangers!" _he snarled, letting a little saliva drip from his mouth. The man backed away and left immediately. Harry put the sword away, wiped his mouth, and assessed the barrier.

"Just as usual, _packed _with muggles. Come on! Platform 9 ¾ this way!"

Harry turned to see a plump, red-haired woman dragging behind her a leash with two red-haired children attached. Beside her walked two twins and an older boy, who was perpetually showing off his nostrils by turning his nose up at the world. The woman caught sight of Harry.

"Oh, you're trying to get onto the platform, dear!" she cried, and he nodded. The boy on the leash gave him a little wave. The girl gave him a shy smile. He grinned back, and she looked down.

"Out of my way, excuse me," said the sneering older boy, and pushed past Harry. He disappeared through the bricks.

"That's how you do it, dear," she woman told Harry. "Just walk straight at the wall." Harry, without hesitation, did so, and found himself on a different platform, fogged up with steam from the large train that sat on the tracks. He was soon on the train, sitting alone in a compartment and waiting for the train to leave.

There was a soft knock on the compartment door, and the young boy, now off his leash, poked his head in.

"D'you mind if I sit here?" he asked. "Everywhere else is full."


	7. Chapter 7

"Yeah, come on in," said Harry, and the boy sat down across from him. He gave a little grin.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, holding out his hand.

"Harry Potter," said Harry, shaking it. Ron's eyes widened in shock.

"Wicked!" he exclaimed. "Do you really have the..." he trailed off, indicating his forehead, and a moment later there was another knock on the door. Ron opened it, and a girl with bushy brown hair entered.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked. "Some idiot nincompoop named Neville's lost one."

Harry and Ron both shrugged, and the girl plopped down on a seat.

"I'm Hermione, by the way – Hermione Granger." She gasped. "Holy cricket! You're Harry Potter!"

Harry grinned awkwardly as both Ron and Hermione leaned in for a closer look at him. Ron picked up his earlier topic by poking at Harry's forehead and saying, "So you _do _have the scar!"

Harry shrunk back into his corner to escape them.

"Look," he said, "I have to tell you – no one's been considerate enough to tell me _why _I'm famous. I mean, at first I thought it was just my stunning looks and striking apparel that had everyone staring, but since you know my name, I guess I was wrong!"

His two examiners leaned back at last, and Harry felt he could breathe again. Hermione sighed, and spread out her hands on her knees.

"Well, I'm _shocked _that no one's told you, but...Harry, a number of years ago, a dark wizard was at large. He tortured everyone unwilling to follow him until they did, and he killed those that didn't. I'm afraid..." she trailed off.

"So am I, sometimes," mused Harry. "Especially when there are spiders around, and due to recent experiences, hippopotamuses have been pretty high on my phobia list lately."

Hermione gave him a look of complete non comprehension, Ron gave him the look of someone who has been listening to, but incapable of processing, the conversation at hand, and Harry prayed that a strong wind would blow him out the open window and away to Cartoon Africa, where he could join Simba and the other cartoon talking animals of the wilderness.

"Um...what I _meant _was, I'm afraid he killed your parents, Harry. You-Know-Who, the dark wizard. And then he tried to kill you too, but for some reason his killing curse didn't work. _You survived,_ Harry. You're the boy who lived."

Harry frowned.

"So...I'm famous for not dying?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well that doesn't make any sense!" he cried. "Look around you! The only boys you see nowadays are the ones that _didn't _die! It's not exactly a miracle, having something _not _happen to you! What a rip-off. And I thought I was the long-lost son of a Scandinavian overlord or something awesome like that." He pouted.

There was an awkward silence.

"Are we there yet?" whined Ron suddenly, bouncing up and down and pushing both hands un-classily between his legs to indicate that he had to use the bathroom. Hermione seemed to notice him for the first time.

"No! In fact, we'd better change into our robes!" she looked Ron up and down. "And who are _you?"_ she asked him, as if unable to believe she was being forced to speak to a humanoid pile of sludge. Ron smiled at her.

"Ron. Ron Weasley. Nice to meet you."

"M-hmm."

Hermione reached into the bag by her feet and pulled out a simple black robe. She proceeded to put it on over her sweater, as Harry and Ron retrieved theirs and did the same.

At last, the train arrived, and the students entered the great castle that was Hogwarts. Harry reflected that, for having such a repulsive name, the place wasn't too bad – although the flaming torches concerned him. The air, at least, was not as intensely smokey as The Leaky Cauldron had been, but he might have to consider wearing a gas mask on a day-to-day basis to avoid dangerous buildup.

The students were directed up a wide staircase which stopped in front of two tall doors. A serious woman in dark green robes exited through them and faced the students.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall. Once you pass through these doors, you will be called forth, and sorted into your house. Whilst you are at the school, your house will be like your family. Good deeds will earn points for your house. Any rule-breaking and/or property damage, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup. Now, I realize it's not fair, and that it encourages unequal, unnecessary discrimination and prejudice above good social behavior, but those are the rules, and there you go."

There was a bit of muttering amongst the students, but McGonagall continued.

"We will be ready for you momentarily." She passed back through the doors, and the muttering took a great crescendo. Harry shared an uncomfortable glance with Ron, and was about to see what Hermione thought of all this when he was interrupted.

"So – you must be Harry Potter." The boy who spoke to Harry seemed not to be confirming it for himself, but rather informing Harry of the fact. He was blonde, with pale skin and an expression that would melt the self-importance of a king. Also he was, frankly, getting in Harry's personal-space bubble (although Harry realized the situation would have been much worse if his breath smelled of something other than fresh peppermint. This he actually found quite pleasant).

"Yeah," he said, not sure what else to say. The boy sniggered for a bit. When he was finished, he offered his perfectly manicured hand to Harry.

"I'm Malfoy. _Draco _Malfoy. Since everything must be a bit new to you, I can show you how to sort out the right sort. Winners and losers, that sort of thing." He gave a snide grin to momentarily show off his perfect teeth.

Despite the pleasant aroma, and the fact that Draco was the only person who introduced their last name before their first to Harry, he felt as though joining this Malfoy fellow was a bad idea. He had read enough of Dudley's comics to know that self-important, sneering people almost always tried to take over the world. And if Harry ended up knowing anyone that wanted to take over the world, he wanted to make sure it was _him,_ not some other maniac who probably had a secret lair and laughed a lot during storms. No, Draco was a bad choice. Better stick with the losers he had met on the train. Less competition that way.

"I think I can sort out the winners and losers for myself, thanks," he said coolly, and wished he still had his royal robe and crown, which a filthy custodian had asked him to remove upon arrival. He felt the accessories gave him _pizazz, _and perhaps even _bling. _Neither of these things did he attain by wearing shapeless, form-insulting bags.

McGonagall returned and opened the doors wide, and the students flooded into a gigantic hall with four tables stretching the length of it. At the end was a raised table, at which the teachers sat. In front of it was a stool with a mangy-looking hat upon it. McGonagall indicated the hat, and explained, "When I call your name, you will come forth, and the sorting hat will be placed upon your head. It will tell us all...a bit about you, then make an educated guess at which house you belong in, at which point you will proceed to the appropriate test to make sure this is the right decision. If you fail this test, you will attempt the others."

She nodded to the hat, and to the children's surprise, it suddenly began to sing:

_"Oh you may not think I'm pretty_

_ But don't judge on what you see_

_ Still, I'll eat myself if you can find_

_ A smarter hat than me!_

_ There's no embarrassment you've had_

_ The Sorting Hat won't say_

_ So try me on and we will laugh_

_ Till you cry and run away_

_ But put me on! Let's break the ice!_

_ I'll tell about the time_

_ You wet your pants when you were young,_

_ Waiting in too long a line_

(Several students began to look very uncomfortable)

_ And after that, we'll find out where_

_ Your nature places you_

_ Perhaps you'll rise above the rest_

_ Or end up scrubbing loos (no offense, Filch!)_

_ Perhaps you'll join the Gryffindors,_

_ With stubborn, violent hearts_

_ They'll never turn a challenge down;_

_ Their justice they'll impart_

_ You might end up in Ravenclaw_

_ If you know you're a nerd_

_ Pens in shirt pockets or behind ears_

_ Will make your tendencies heard_

_ If you belong in Slytherin_

_ You'll know that by now, which,_

_ Translated for less cultured ears_

_ Means you are stinking rich_

_ Let's hope you're not a Hufflepuff_

_ Who fail all of the tests_

_ Let's face it – you'll fall far below_

_ The standards of the rest_

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_ But don't judge a book by its cover unless it says it's part of an angst-filled teenage vampire romance saga by Stephanie Meyer in which case you should run away very very fast_

_ And now I'll finish up my song_

_ And sort you all at last!"_

The song concluded, and the students broke into nervous applause.

"Abbot, Hannah!" called McGonagall – and the sorting began.


	8. Chapter 8

Hey everyone, time for a few more chapter notes.

After all this time, I STILL don't own Harry Potter or any other part of this story that I don't own. Shocking, isn't it?

Any musical tastes expressed in this story may or may not apply to my own. You'll never know.

And during the song, I'm sorry for all the separating lines, but since the formatting won't allow a space between, this was the only thing to do.

Enjoy, and PLEASE REVIEW! I know you're out there, you people who read but don't review. And I tell you, whenever I check my traffic, I nearly cry. That's how much I want reviews.

But still, to all those people, thanks for reading anyway :)

And - last thought - if you haven't already turned it down, please check out The Death Eater Holidays writing competition (it's listed as one of my stories). My co-host and I have a serious lack of competitors, so yes, this IS a desperate attempt to advertise...heh heh...so please give it a look, and see if you're interested!

* * *

A nervous girl left the crowd and sat on the stool. McGonagall placed the hat on her head. There was silence as everyone waited. Finally the hat said, "Let's try Ravenclaw, I suppose," with very little enthusiasm. Hannah was ushered to an area to the left of the teacher's table. Harry hadn't noticed them when he first arrived, but now he saw three curtained booths, almost like dressing rooms in a mall; the curtains of one were red, one blue, and the other green. For a moment he wondered why there was no yellow booth, which would have matched the banners hanging over the Hufflepuff table, before he remembered the Sorting Hat's song: _'Let's hope you're not a Hufflepuff, who fail __all__ of the tests.'_

Hannah, at the urging of McGonagall, stepped into the blue one. As soon as the curtains settled behind her, a loud muttering broke out amongst the unsorted students. Many turned to the older students seated at the tables beside them to ask what was going on, but the older students refused to say, telling them that it was against the rules to talk about it.

Only a minute or two after Hannah entered, she came back out, but by then the other students were so flurried that hardly anyone noticed. Hermione muttered to Harry, "This is totally unorganized. I'm surprised they haven't come up with anything better in all this time." Harry had no answer for her, so he nodded and watched as Hannah was escorted into the green booth. Again, the students hardly noticed when she came out a minute later, and went to the red booth.

There was a scream from inside, and at last the other students brought their attention back to Hannah. She ran out of the booth, looking back fearfully, and the hat roared happily, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hannah took a seat at the Hufflepuff table, where a few students patted her on the back and spoke kindly to her. She seemed to feel better.

The sorting continued. Most of the students seemed fractionally calmer than Hannah.

"Granger, Hermione!" called McGonagall at last, and Hermione stepped boldly forward to take her place on the stool. The hat thought for a long time

"I say, professors," it said at last. "I think I might like a word."

Several teachers, including who Harry assumed was Dumbledore, stepped aside while McGonagall brought them the hat. They conversed for several minutes, while Hermione waited, now trembling. At long last McGonagall returned the hat to her head, and it recommended she try Gryffindor. She walked through the red curtains, and soon the students heard a beastly roar.

"CONFRINGO!" A gigantic burst of flame shot out of the top of the booth, and Hermione emerged a moment later. McGonagall clapped for her.

"Quick combat thinking!" she applauded. "Fought like a true Gryffindor."

Hermione, looking pleased with herself, took a seat at the Gryffindor table. Harry was impressed. Also a little threatened. Maybe being friends with that Malfoy kid would have been a good idea after all.

When Draco's name was next on the list, he went straight to Slytherin after passing through the green curtains. All that Harry caught from inside was Draco saying, "What – you filthy piece of scum! How DARE you not ask permission!" and he was immediately shoved out through the curtains, where he joined the Slytherin table and sulked for a while.

Soon McGonagall called Harry's name, and he plopped down on the stool. Several students murmured behind their hands and pointed. He felt the hat on his head.

_"Ahh, Mr. Potter!" _said a voice in his mind. _"I see you have an extraordinary mind! Full of bravery...or is it pride? I can't tell. Let me put it to you this way, alright? Bravery equals Gryffindor. Pride equals Slytherin. Now, I'd ask you if you've got a preference, but the levels of testosterone, and...yes, adrenaline, pushing through your system are telling me one thing – you're not the type to tell others to do your dirty work, are you?"_

Harry tried thinking back. _Always start the fight, always finish the fight. Victory or death. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Trust nothing but your own willpower. I am destined to RULE OVER ALL THE LANDS OF THIS EARTH, AND WHEN THEY INVENT BETTER SPACE TRAVEL, I SHALL RULE THE GALAXY, NO, THE UNIV –_

_ "All right, all right!" _said the hat. _"Gryffindor it is, then. Off you go."_

Once the hat had spoken its decision aloud, Harry pushed his way through the red curtains – and faced a spider. Not one of those little spiders that hang in the corner and look like little dots of nothingness, the kind you can squish with your finger and not be grossed out by. No, this spider was huge. Each leg was four or five feet long, and it was hairy.

It was then that something awoke inside our hero. A fire of rage and power and strength. With a cry, he leaped at the spider, kicking with his legs, clawing with his fingers, clamping his teeth round any part of the creature he could reach.

The spider dissolved into a damp mist, and three teachers had to wrestle Harry out; he was fighting all three of them. A general round of applause broke out through the hall, and when the teachers finally wrestled Harry into his seat at the table, he received several pats on the back from his surrounding housemates.

When Ron went up, the hat sat on his head for a moment, then went to the Gryffindor booth. There was silence from inside, and he walked out a moment later, looking terrified. He joined Harry at the table.

"What happened?" Harry inquired, but Ron just shook his head.

Dumbledore stood up, and the hall went quiet.

"Welcome, welcome to Hogwarts!" he said, beaming down at the students. "I would like to remind you – The Forbidden Forest is now even _more _strictly forbidden, and the third floor is strictly off limits for those who do not want to die a most painful death. Or indeed anyone who does not want to die at all. That works too." He cleared his throat. "Now, before our feast begins, I would like us all to sing our new Hogwarts anthem. I've always thought singing on an empty stomach is a good idea, because if you eat too much then the food can make your throat all cloggy and eugh, nobody wants that. _A new Hogwarts song? _you may ask. Yes indeed. Those who are returning to Hogwarts will of course know that I'm _such _a Little Monster. Unfortunately, by decree of the Ministry of Magic, The GaGa has been deemed inappropriate for such situations as this. So I wrote this little song just last night – I hope it's alright. Just sing it to your favorite tune, and enjoy the music!"

With this, Dumbledore waved his wand and words began to appear above his head. The students began to sing all at once.

_When you enter_

_ Please wipe your shoes off_

_ Because we don't want the mud to come inside_

_ Don't be tardy_

_ And miss your classes _

_ Or you will flunk and fail and fall behind_

_

* * *

_

_ You know we don't like you much_

_ Smelly, stupid kids and such_

_ At this point I'll summarize, so memorize:_

_

* * *

_

_Please study hard_

_ Please study hard_

_ When at Hogwarts_

_ Or we'll discard_

_ Or we'll discard_

_ Your good marks_

_ Don't be a jerk, don't break the rules_

_ Have good behavior in the school_

_ Please study hard_

_ Please study hard_

_ At Hogwarts_

_ Hoggy-Hogwarts, hoggy-Hogwarts_

_ Hoggy-hoggy Hogwarts, hoggy-hoggy Hog-a-warts_

_

* * *

_

_ We don't know you_

_ So don't be offended_

_ That the part in the pre-chorus hurts a lot_

_ You might not be_

_ As dumb as we said_

_ 'Cause it was a general statement for the lot_

_

* * *

_

_ You know we don't like you much_

_ Smelly, stupid kids and such_

_ At this point I'll summarize, so memorize:_

_

* * *

_

_ Please study hard_

_ Please study hard_

_ When at Hogwarts_

_ Or we'll discard_

_ Or we'll discard_

_ Your good marks_

_ Don't be a jerk, don't break the rules_

_ Have good behavior in the school_

_ Please study hard_

_ Please study hard_

_ At Hogwarts_

_ Hoggy-Hogwarts, hoggy-Hogwarts_

_ Hoggy-hoggy Hogwarts, hoggy-hoggy Hog-a-warts_

The chorus lyrics formed a bridge, then returned to their original form, ending with a final _Hoggy-Hogwarts._ After examining the lyrics, Harry was pretty sure Dumbledore was secretly rebelling against the Ministry's degree, whatever the Ministry was. Ron had mentioned it on the train, but he really hadn't been listening.

Once the Weasley twins (which Ron had told Harry about while he was still paying attention) had finished, Dumbledore said, "Let the feast begin!" And the tables were suddenly filled with food of every kind.

Almost two hours of eating later, the students followed their prefects to the dormitories. Harry found his new bed very comfortable, and with the soft calls of Headwig beside him, he soon slept.


End file.
